


Ten Minutes Ago

by AHappyPup



Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Ableism, Ableist Language, Abuse, Cinderella AU, F/M, M/M, Race is a fairy godmother and it's beautiful, genderfluid smalls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-08 09:59:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11079261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AHappyPup/pseuds/AHappyPup
Summary: When the death of King Joseph comes, the child of Princess Katherine and Prince Jack is in need to find a partner to continue the family line. What better way to do that than with a ball?





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Cowritten by ig0tfriends on tumblr. Enjoy!

 

It was always nice to come home. For Smalls, being home meant all dangers were abated and he could breathe. He didn’t have to worry about sleeping in cold grassy fields as they awaited battle to come or how to command an army when he hardly had the will to fight himself. As he and his troops approached the castle gates, it was as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

“Smalls!” He could hear his mother calling him from the second he entered the grounds.

“Mama!” Smalls ran and gave a tight hug to his mother, Princess Katherine.

Katherine squeezed tight, feeling the relief of having her child home and safe. “How are you, my little one?”

Smalls laughed at his mother. She was always good about these kinds of things. “Your little boy is doing well,” he beamed. “I missed you.”

“And I missed you more than you could imagine. Though your father may argue he missed you more.” Katherine placed a kiss on her son’s forehead. “Come, let us go inside and see him.”

The doormen immediately opened the wide, wrought-iron gates to the castle without so much as a word between any of them. Still, they could hardly suppress smiles at the homecoming of their beloved prince. It was a rare thing to have all denizens of a kingdom be enamored of their royal family, but Princess Katherine, Prince Jack and their child made it easy to be liked by all, even if King Joseph was a little insufferable at times. Since the passing of Queen Kate and Princess Lucille, things had been shaky, but Princess Katherine led amicably alongside her father, leading to peace between all those who inhabited their kingdom.

With the great blare of a trumpet, the pair of prince and mother strode inside the castle walls. Servants hustled to and fro, each one taking the time to smile at the princess and son. One maiden with yellow flowers in her arms rushed up to Katherine, made a quick curtsy, and addressed the princess as fast as she could.

“The prince is in his studio, your royal highness. He asked not to be disturbed unless it was absolutely necessary!”

“While my husband may be enthralled in his art, I do believe he will wish to see his son home from battle.” Katherine smiled. Neither she nor Jack had known when Smalls was to be home. The war had ended about three weeks ago, so they had been expecting him any day. “Would you tell him we will be in the throne room?" 

The maiden curtsied once more, nodding, and quickly gave a shy smile to the prince. It was hardly a secret on the castle grounds that he was favored by most of the young servants, all thinking Smalls terribly pretty and handsome. But the maiden scurried away without another word, and it was then that a rackety clattering click-click noise squealed into the hallway. Steering a most formidable wheelchair down the hall -- formidable because the crotchety old man it belonged to used it to drive over everyone’s toes -- was an aging, graying old man dressed in a crown and doublet that were fashionable about fifteen years earlier.

“Katherine!” called the wizened old man, giving a baleful eye and a wag of a crooked finger to all who passed him by. There was a reason most addressed him as Pulitzer. King Joseph was a name for a kind old grandfather, whilst his surname from birth far more suited the man he became. “Katherine! Where's Hannah? She was supposed to return an hour ago with my completed treatise on gnomes!”

“She was in the garden last I saw, Father,” Katherine replied. “Perhaps doing more research for you?” She looked at her son, giving him a light rub on the shoulder. “Are you not going to greet your grandson?”

“I’ll greet my granddaughter,” he spat. “Hello, my sweet Samantha. I’m glad you’re back from that foolish errand, running an army. The army your father should have been running,” Pulitzer snarled. “But you’re done with all that now aren’t you, sweetheart?”

Smalls grit his teeth, but merely gave his grandfather a graceful bow. “Yes, Grandfather.”

Pulitzer gave a grunt of disgust before lapsing into a bout of coughs. Swatting away the servants like flies, he resisted all offers of assistance. With one last glance at his ‘granddaughter’, the old man turned his wheelchair around and sped past his daughter just in time to meet Hannah, a young woman who normally acted as Pulitzer’s assistant, who was teetering underneath a large stack of paperwork.

“I will see you at dinner time!” he called back, though he barely glanced back at all. “Have Samantha wear her blue dress -- the one I bought her! HANNAH! I hope you collected all the information on the feeding habits of gnomes that I requested!”

As Pulitzer exited, another door opened, this time admitting a much more jovial man with bright brown eyes and paint-splattered hands.

“Smalls! How are you doing, kid?”

Smalls couldn’t help but grin. Maybe his grandfather didn’t understand, but the ones that mattered did.

* * *

 Another day, another hour of mucking pig slop. At least that was the way it seemed to Crutchie, who stood in the middle of the once tame pasture, surrounded by numerous barnyard animals. He stood up once more, resting the shovel against the trough as he wiped the sweat from his brow. The once-comforting fabric pinned to the top of his crutch was soaked through with sweat from too many days of hard labor to count. 

If anyone had chosen to walk by at that very moment, they would have assumed he, dressed in ragged clothes, was a simple farmhand or stable boy. No one would have ever known that Crutchie, formerly the young Lord Robert of the very estate he was now mucking pig slop on, was the son of a (formerly) wealthy merchant.

But all that was in the past. Now, he was only Crutchie, the crippled servant of the household. No one, even if they did walk past, would suspect anything different.

“Did you finish cleaning the manure?” his step-brother Morris called out. He walked out into the field, coming up close. Cruelly, he pushed Crutchie’s crutch into the pile of manure on the ground. Crutchie, barely having time to form a look of panic on his face, quickly found himself tossed into the pile of manure as well.

“Missed a spot,” Morris laughed, walking off.

Crutchie sighed, feeling the gross sensation against his skin. He had never understood why his step-brothers were so mean to him. He had never treated them with anything but kindness since they were children and yet they were still so cruel.

As if it wasn’t mean enough, Oscar came up close behind Morris dumping a pile of fresh manure into the pile. “Oops, it slipped,” he said menacingly. “But you can take care of it, can’t you, Crutchie?”

“Course I can, Oscar,” Crutchie managed to glare at his step brother but neatly bit his tongue to stop any biting reply he had in mind from slipping out. Ignoring both of the mocking grins plastered on his retreating step brother’s faces, Crutchie stubbornly stood his crutch up and stood up himself. He shuddered, praying he wouldn't be sick at the sight and smell of the manure his back, arms and legs were now covered in.

Slowly, he picked up his shovel and finished piling up the manure. Before he could become sick from the smell, he managed to get himself into the creek. It may have been wet, but it was better than the sticky manure on his skin and clothing.

“‘Ey, Bobby boy, what happened to you?” a neighbor of his crossed over to the creek, cigar hanging from his mouth. “Fall into some cow crap again?”

“More like pushed in,” Crutchie mumbled. “But I’m fine, thanks for asking, Race.”

“Hey -- hey kid, you'd tell me if anyone was givin’ you trouble, right?” Race gave the younger boy a tap on his shoulder. To his chagrin, Crutchie flinched away, his eyes filling with fear for half a second before they filled with shame instead.

“Course I would,” Crutchie answered with a fake smile, but did not return the gentle punch, “Thanks, Race. I mean it.”

“Alright, kid. Well I’ll let you get back to your swim. Gotta go make a deal for some new cigars.” He gave one last smile and was on his way.

“Crutchie, I swear to God you better get up here and clean this mess!”

His step-father. Snyder.

Well, there went his cleansing swim. There was work that needed to be done whether he was covered in manure or not. Crutchie pulled himself out of the water and onto the grassy bank, barely drying off his now soaked clothing. Once upon a time he would have believed it was no big deal to come home soaked to the bone -- but this was no home anymore, and his step father seemed to hate him with a passion. Taking one last glance across the creek, Crutchie slipped his crutch under his arm and set off for the manor house.

* * *

 Smalls waited in anxiety for his grandfather to arrive at dinner. He was in fact not wearing the blue dress his grandfather had bought. He knew it would cause a scene, but Smalls could not handle wearing that today. He felt far too much like a boy to put it on.

Sure he had attempted- no one liked to anger his grandfather if they could help it- but when he tried to wear the dress, he felt as though he was going to cry. His mother came in and helped him dress in his best shirt and tie, constantly reassuring him that it was okay to be their little boy today- even if Grandfather didn’t approve.

Half an hour had passed since dinner was meant to begin and Grandfather still wasn’t at the table.

“Hannah, have you seen Father?” Katherine asked, looking across the table.

“No, your highness. It isn’t like him to be this late. He’s probably looking over those reports on gnomes,” she sighed. “I will go check in on him.” Quickly after, Hannah left the dining room in search of Pulitzer.

“Personally, it may be a miracle your father's late,” Jack winked at Katherine. “He's getting to be a real pain in the --”

“Jack!” Katherine admonished him, and Jack grimaced.

“Smalls, he was hounding me everyday since you left,” the prince confided, “Kept nagging me about why I wasn't doing ‘official royal duties’ when I was painting --which, by the way, is in fact an official royal duty now --”

A loud, piercing shriek interrupted Jack’s tirade, immediately freezing the blood of everyone assembled in the hall.

“King Pulitzer is dead!”

* * *

Along with shoveling manure, feeding the animals, and tending to other chores outside, one of Crutchie’s main responsibilities was to bring the meals to his ever-so-kind household. Breakfast was his first priority in the morning, and he busied himself with balancing the dishes on his arms as he walked out to greet his step-father and brothers without a word.

“I can’t believe King Pulitzer finally kicked the bucket!” Morris said looking up from the paper. News was only delivered every two weeks, giving him plenty to catch up on. “And that his kid is already pushing to get Princess Samantha a new husband.”

“‘Ey, Morris it says right here that everyone is invited to this ball thing. Maybe _I_ could be king,” Oscar said, all hoity-toity.

Morris shoved his brother. “Like a baboon like you could be king. The princess needs a real gentleman, like me.” Morris shoved Oscar again, this time bumping him into Crutchie. “Hey! Watch where you’re going! You coulda spilled breakfast all over me!” 

Crutchie, who had momentarily lost his balance, caught a disapproving glare from his step-father and quickly gave Morris another egg for breakfast. “It won't happen again,” he muttered, limping around the table as fast as he could to distribute the rest of the meal. “Can I get ya anything else?” He asked, avoiding his stepfather’s eyes.

“Coffee’s stale. Make a new pot,” Snyder scowled, taking the newspaper from his sons. “And that’s enough roughhousing with your brother, Morris. _Both_ of you will be going to the ball for a chance at Princess Samantha’s hand.”

Crutchie hobbled out to the kitchen to make fresh coffee, but was still able to hear his step-family’s booming voices..

“Hey- hey, Pa, I heard that that princess, sometimes she ain’t no princess. That she thinks she’s a boy sometimes. We can’t marry no prince! That’s just wrong!”

In the kitchen, Crutchie flinched, nearly knocking over the pot of coffee he was making. At the mention of marrying a prince, he had straightened his back and stood up taller than he normally did. He wouldn't mind marrying a prince or princess but he knew neither of those would ever happen anyway. Not while he was under the unjust thumb of his step family.

But, that didn’t mean he couldn’t dream.

Dream of dancing with Samantha. Twirling her, or him if that’s how he felt, feeling their body close to his. Kissing them, loving them. Having someone care about him, not just as a servant, but as a person.

A whistling kettle drew him from his thoughts. The time for dreaming was done.  There were no princes or princesses here, just work to be done. Coffee needed brewing, and chores needed completing.

Maybe one day though, just maybe, that dream would be true.


	2. Chance Encounters

A few weeks had passed since the death of King Pulitzer. Soon after the excitement of Queen Katherine’s coronation, preparations for the ball fully began. The first matter of business was for the news to be spread around that a date had been set. A team of soldiers as well as the new king consort and his son went about to deliver the news.

Jack and Smalls rode through the kingdom, enjoying the first quiet moment they had had since Pulitzer’s death. “Pa, do you think this ball is a good idea?” Smalls asked as they rode along.

“Smalls, we talked about this,” he sighed. Jack understood why his son was troubled. Anyone who had known the king knew that Jack was not a fan of big parties and dressing up. Being dressed as soldiers to deliver the news of the ball was far more fun to him than the actual ball would be. But it was just a part of being with the woman he loved. “It’s only so you can meet people. You don’t have to marry anyone that night.”

“But what if I meet someone I really like and then they find out about me and hate me?” Smalls bit down on his lip nervously.

“Then they ain’t worth the time of day, kid.” Jack understood. He was terrified about Katherine finding out that he was truly a pauper rather than a prince. But she still loved him, even with his status. “Real love loves you no matter what.”

“Like you and Mama,” Smalls began to smile, and Jack nodded.

“Listen, kid -- you might not even find your true love at this ball, anyways. Maybe you'll find them at the second, or the third. Whenever it happens, it happens, and there's nothing you or I can do to rush it, ‘cept for maybe the law of the land. But no panicking till the day of, huh?”

Smalls nodded, and bearing that same smile, he gently nudged his horse into a fast trot, which soon became a canter. Jack laughed, and the two began to race through the streets.

When the doorbell rang at the manor home of the former Lord Robert, Crutchie hardly thought anything of it at first. Morris and Oscar normally had many ‘acquaintances’ and potential wives waiting to call upon them, so Crutchie assumed this was one and the same.

His eyes flew open as he yanked open the door and found the royal messenger standing there. Dumbstruck, Crutchie bowed and moved back into the foyer to admit the man. His stepfather and stepbrothers hurried down the stairs as soon as they realized what it was, almost knocking Crutchie to the floor in their haste.

Greedily, all three beheld tickets to the royal ball in their hands. Caught up in their great fortune, Snyder and the boys rushed past Crutchie as fast as they could to begin their preparations. Barely suppressing a sigh and noting he still had to feed the pigs for the day, Crutchie limped out the back door, led the pigs to the well, and promptly sat down on its edge.

As Crutchie watched the pigs sip greedily at the water he gave them, he saw a young man approach.

“Excuse me, sir,” the man said. “Would you happen to spare a cup of water? I have been riding all day and am incredibly thirsty.”

“Huh? Oh,” Crutchie pulled out of his reverie and bent down to retrieve a cup of water from the well, which he extended to the (particularly handsome) man before him. “Here you are, sir.”

“Thank you, kind sir,” the man replied with a smile that glowed. One of the pigs decided to rub his head up against the man’s leg. “Oh, hello there little fellow.” He squatted down, giving the pig a small rub on the head. “Is he yours?”

“Y-Yeah, I take care of him -- of all of them,” Crutchie responded, his cheeks turning the faintest shade of pink. “Sorry he got mud on you, sir…”

“Oh, he’s alright. A little mud never hurt anyone.” The man smiled again before drinking his water. “Thank you again for the water.”

A pause passed. “Have you heard of the ball at the palace?”

“You're welcome,” Crutchie nodded in turn before he shifted his eyes away in disappointment. “The ball? Yeah. Who hasn't?” He let out a small laugh, laughing at himself. “I...can't go. Too busy with, well…” Crutchie gestures vaguely around the yard before returning his gaze to the man. “Too many chores.”

The man’s smile was gone. “Well, I understand the importance of chores, but,” he paused, reaching in his pocket, “if you are able, here is an invitation. Maybe I’ll see you there?” a slight blush crossed his face.

“Oh, I...I couldn't,” Crutchie put up his hands in protest. “I'm just…” A shadow crossed his face, and he glanced over to the manor house. His manor house.

“I'm just a servant,” Crutchie shook his head, his gaze falling.

“I’m sure you’re more than just that.” The man gave a wink. Out in the distance a voice called out. “That would be my father. Hopefully, I'll see you at the ball?”

“Oh, I mean, uh….sure!” Crutchie's hand closed around the offered invitation, and he even dared to smile. “I hope to see you there too, sir…?”

“Smalls,” he smiled. “Friends call me Smalls.” He gave one last pet to the pig and then turned back towards his father. “I’ll see you soon!” He waved and headed off.

Crutchie watched him go for a second, but with panic marking his movements, he stood up and tried to call after the retreating man, but he was soon out of earshot. With luck, they would meet again at the ball.

After feeding the rest of the pigs and leading them to their enclosure for the night, Crutchie dashed inside the house. His face still burned a bright pink from the memory of his encounter -- to think that man, Smalls, was looking forward to seeing him at the ball!

* * *

 

The day of the ball had finally arrived. Crutchie felt so excited he could hardly burst! Between his normal chores and helping his brothers get ready for the ball, the day had been a bit busier than usual. But nonetheless, he still found time to sew the last few stitches into his father’s old suit.

Confidently, he walked down into the parlor where is step-brothers were anxiously awaiting their carriage. “I bet as soon as that princess gets a look at me, she’ll fall head over heels!” Morris gloated, straightening his tie.

“Who’d ever fall in love with you? That princess is a smart one. She’d never go for someone like _you_.” Oscar rolled his eyes. “She needs someone smart like her, sophisticated.”

“Boys! We already went over this. You both have a chance, and one of you better make it,” Snyder scowled. Turning to finish his bowtie in the mirror, Snyder caught sight of Crutchie. “And what are you all dressed up for?”

“I'm going to the ball,” Crutchie could barely keep himself from smiling, even in the presence of his dreaded stepfamily. “I have an invitation right here --” He held up the slip of paper in his free hand, and even straightened up a little taller on his crutch. “And I am comin’ with ya to the ball.”

Snyder began to laugh, Oscar and Morris following close behind. “You’re going to the ball? You -- a cripple.” Snyder’s eyes flashed with evil mirth as he stared down at his stepson.

“Oh just imagine it, Prince Crutchie. Look at me, I’m a prince!” Morris mocked, badly imitating Crutchie’s limp.

“Oh I’ll love you _forever_!” Oscar played along. “Like that would ever happen!”

“And it won’t!” Morris ripped one of Crutchie’s sleeves. Oscar joined in, reaching for the other sleeve, tearing the seams apart. While Crutchie struggled to hold onto his precious suit, his invitation slipped out of his hand. Snyder gave him a hard look and picked it off the floor.

Before he could even protest, the invitation was torn to pieces.

Tears sprang to Crutchie's eyes, which only made Oscar and Morris cackle harder. “I -- I am the true lord of this household --” He struggled to gasp out, but only quailed under his stepfather’s dark gaze. As a parting gift, Snyder deftly knocked the crutch out from underneath him, sending Crutchie to land on the stairs with a crash and groan.

“You are not leaving this house till you scrub it from head to toe,” Snyder sneered. “Perhaps then it will be rid of the filth it holds. Isn't that a fitting job for you, my lord?”

Crutchie winced, watching as his stepfamily strode to the door. “How can you be so cruel to me?! After marrying my mother!”

But Snyder, Morris and Oscar only left with laughter hanging in the air behind them, and Crutchie burst into tears.

He escaped out to the garden once he grabbed his crutch back, hoping the fresh air would calm him down. In his distress he hadn’t noticed a figure coming up to him.

“Kid? What’s eating at you?” It was his neighbor Race. Without skipping a beat, he sat down on the ground next to Crutchie. “The old spider won’t let you go to the ball?” he asked, looking at Crutchie’s torn suit and invitation.

Crutchie nodded. “They- they tore my pop’s suit. That’s all I had of his,” he sobbed. “How could they be so cruel?”

Race frowned. “I don’t know, kid. But I do know how we can fix you up.”

“You do?”

“Just watch.”

Race pulled his cigar from his mouth and twirled it a bit. “Corona-Panetela-Robusto!” he cried. Almost like magic, the red ashes from his cigar surrounded the invitation, putting it back together as if it had never been torn.

“I -- what?!” Crutchie stared at his neighbor, shocked in every sense of the word. “How -- you -- you’re?!”

“Breathe, kid,” Race instructed, though really, he was smiling.

Crutchie bent to take the invitation as gingerly as he could. “Are you my fairy godmother?!”

Race groaned. “Fairy godfather, kid. Godfather.”


	3. Transformations

Once Crutchie had digested and accepted that his gambling neighbor living in the run-down cottage across the creek was truly his fairy godfather, the real preparations for the ball were in order. In no time at all Crutchie was wearing a clean, dark blue suit that was more than rich enough for someone of his true station. Race had taken it upon himself to transform the pigs into gorgeous stallions and foxes into coachmen, and Crutchie could barely believe his eyes as the largest squash in the garden grew to be a magnificent coach of ivory and gold. 

“There!” Race proclaimed, lifting his magic cigar in the air once more. “Just two more final touches and you'll be ready.”

“What more do you gotta do?” Crutchie marveled, figuring he was all set.

“Your leg, kid,” Race added, and Crutchie took a step back warily. 

“What about it?”

“It might be a little hard to dance with right now. But I think I can do something that’ll help. Do you trust me?”

Crutchie stared at Race and slowly gave a hesitant nod. Was Race going to get rid of his limp? He had always dreamed of being able to stand and run, but now that it came to a moment where he had to choose, uncertainty was at the forefront of his mind. What if this wasn't permanent? What if in the future he had to look back on this day forever remembering it as the one day in his entire life where he was able to stand and run?

“Belicoso!” Race shouted. The ashes from the cigar began to swirl around Crutchie’s leg. He could feel the heat against his leg and then a cool sensation. Underneath his pants, a brace formed around his bum leg, only slightly visible to the outside world. It was strong enough to where he thought he might be able to stand without this crutch!

Warily, he took a step forward, putting his crutch to one side.

He stayed on his feet.

“I’m walking, Race! All on my own!” Crutchie shouted. Energy flooded his body. He felt like he could do anything right now.

Race nodded with a slight smile on his face. “You sure is, Bobby boy. One more thing for ya.” He gave one last swirl of his cigar. “And now, ain’t nobody gonna be staring at you because of your leg. They’ll be staring ‘cause you’re you, nothing else.”

Crutchie smiled. When he went to straighten his suit, he remembered he was still wearing his mother’s ring. Both his mother and father would be with him on the night that could change his life forever. “Hey, Race?”

“Yeah?”

He held up his hand, pointing out his mother’s wedding band. “Is there any magic that can keep me from losing this tonight?”

Race shook his head. “That’s out of my domain.” A pause. “But I might have something just as good.” 

His cigar was raised up in the air again. “Maduro!” The ring began to glow, and Crutchie could feel the ring squeeze against his finger. “That’ll make sure no one else can wear it. Even if it falls off, it’ll only go on you.”

He turned around and pointed at the carriage. “Now get going. This magic is only gonna last you til midnight, kid. Make the most of it.”

Crutchie grinned, running and practically leaping into the carriage. “Thank you, Race!” He called out as the carriage began to pull away. “Thank you!”

* * *

 

Smalls fidgeted nervously with the hem of her dress as her mother did the finishing touches on her hair. The prospect of meeting all of these men and women who wanted to have her hand in marriage made her muscles tight and her stomach flutter. 

“Smalls, honey, are you okay?” Katherine asked, putting a golden clip in her hair. “Would you rather change into your suit? You still have time.”

She shook her head. “No, no, Mama, that’s not it.” It had been a while since Smalls had felt feminine enough to wear the dresses like she used to, but today, it just felt right. The way the dress felt against her body, a bit heavy but still light enough to move around. “Just a bit nervous,” she said sheepishly, fiddling with the golden fabric again. 

Katherine finished fiddling with her daughter’s short hair and took a seat beside her. “I understand.” She ran her hand over Small’s soothingly. “When your grandfather had first had a ball to find your Aunt Lucy and me husbands, I was so nervous I wasn’t able to talk to anyone until nearly three hours in.”

“I bet that made Grandfather happy,” Smalls laughed.

Katherine smiled at her daughter, “Oh you bet it did.” She then straightened herself up. “But I don’t want you worrying about that. I want you to have a good time. Even if you don’t find anyone tonight, there will always be other nights.”

With a creak of the door, a blushing servant peeked inside. “Your highnesses? The ball is about to begin.”

Katherine stood and acknowledged the servant. “Thank you, Melody.” She then offered a hand to Smalls. “Come on, little one. Let’s go.”

* * *

 

A hand from his fox-turned-footman was all Crutchie needed to step out of the carriage. His broad smile didn't dim as he climbed the steps to the palace with ease, and waited outside the door with the remaining lords and ladies. As he strode inside, the music seemed to swell, and if Crutchie had looked around at the surrounding crowd, he would have noticed quite a few heads turning to stare at him. 

“Wow! Who is that?”

“He’s gorgeous!”

“Is he from the village?”

“I’ve never seen him before!”

All the people were noticing him for the first time, not as only his crutch or a servant, but as a real person. Nothing could make him happier. Or so he thought. 

Princess Samantha was smiling at him.

“Would you like to dance?” she asked softly.

Out of habit, Crutchie glanced over his shoulder to see if there was anyone else she could possibly be asking. He then blushed a bright crimson and bowed to the princess, giving her his hand. 

Princess Samantha took the hand and helped him into position. The orchestra started to play a waltz, and although Crutchie hadn’t danced a waltz since he was a young child, he could feel his legs move with a rhythm he hadn’t felt in years. The brace allowed him to move easily to the beat, keeping up with Samantha almost as if he had no limp at all. 

But that only lasted for so long. His good leg tripped over the brace and he fell into Princess Samantha. 

“I’m so so sor-”

But before he could even finish apologizing, the princess lifted him back up with ease, steadying his feet, and continuing their dance. It was so fast, Crutchie doubted anyone else even had the chance to notice. “Thank you,” he whispered in her ear.

“We all slip sometimes,” she said, the smile still glowing from her face. “You’re an excellent dancer.”

Now the smile grew on Crutchie’s face. That was a compliment he never thought he would hear.

“I, uh, thanks,” was all he said, almost amazed he was expertly keeping in time with the rhythm and beat of the waltz, no matter his leg. But his true focus was only on the princess’ face: her lovely eyes, the shape of her mouth and the way she was smiling just for him. 

She held him close again, enjoying the moment, when she whispered in his ear again. “After this, meet me out in the courtyard? It’s a little loud in here. Can’t get to know someone when you can hardly hear them.”

Opening his mouth to reply, Crutchie quickly closed it and nodded instead. With a graceful flourish the music ended, and Crutchie stepped away and gave the princess a sweeping bow.

When he turned away, still smiling, not even seeing his step family muttering into their drinks in the corner could dampen his spirits.


	4. The Ball

Getting away from all the hustle and bustle of a ball held in her honor was harder than Smalls thought it would be. Parents from all over the lands were trying to push their children on her; one even try to put their toddler! But soon enough she was out in the courtyard, standing in front of the man who had danced so elegantly with her.

“Hello again,”she said shyly, trying not to startle him. Smalls didn’t understand why, but just getting to speak to him again made a light blush cross her face.

“Hi.” The gentleman, for his part, looked just as jittery and nervous. He looked down, bemused as he noticed his leg was shaking like mad. Nerves? Still, he managed to smile at the princess and extend his hand to her.

“I've never seen a garden as large as this one, your highness,” he remarks, trying to take some of the attention away from himself and his blushing face. “At home, we...we used to have a garden, but not as grand as this one.”

Smalls giggled. “You don’t have to call me ‘your highness’.” She shook the hand he offered. “I’m Smalls.” The man’s face twisted in confusion. “What?” 

“It’s just- it’s- we’ve met before,” the man said, a soft smile on his face.

Now it was her turn to be confused. Sure she met a lot of people during her days in the army. Was he one of her soldiers and she just didn’t remember? “We have?” The more she looked, the more familiar he was, but she couldn’t place him. 

“You -- you had a drink of water from my well,” the young man blushed.

That was it! “You were the young man with the pigs!” She was glad to finally place him. But then a thought had crossed her mind.

She had been masculine that day.

“How did you recognize me?”

The young man seemed to shift on his feet, his eyes finally meeting Smalls’. “Your, uh, it's your eyes.”

Of course. The one thing that didn’t change, no matter how she felt. “I’m sorry. If you don’t want to be with me because of that. I understand,” Smalls said uncharacteristically shy.

“No! No no no no,” the young man quickly shook his head, seeming to seek to comfort the princess in any way he could. “No, I -- I do! I really do! I mean… well, uh, I mean…”  

“As much as you can want to be with a person you just met?” she asked, hopefully.

“I -- yes,” the young man blushed even deeper, if that was possible.

Small’s laughed. “Well how about we get to know each other better then?”

* * *

 

A while later, the pair found themselves sitting together on a small bench out of the way of the rest of the garden, underneath a small canopy of roses. Crutchie's nerves had stilled as much as they were going to, and he was finding it a little easier to talk to the princess. And talk they did; as soon as they seemed to run out of things to say, each one of them spoke up even more. 

The moon was already high in the sky, and Crutchie looked up at the stars above, a small smile sneaking onto his face. “I never see the stars as much now,” he said, a bit quiet. 

“Really?” Smalls asked, looking up at the stars herself. “Why not?’

“Oh --” Crutchie glanced over to the princess, shrugging a bit. “Ever since my… my parents died, my stepfamily have, uh, sort of taken over my old rooms. So I sleep in the tower. There's only a small window.”

“That’s terrible,” she said in a hushed tone. Soon after though, Smalls looked as though she was in deep thought.

“Smalls?” 

“I wasn’t always royalty,” she confessed. “Once upon a time, a long time ago, I- I was like you. My parents- the ones that gave birth to me at least- they weren’t good people. They kept me hidden away, expected me to do everything for them, even though I was small. I used to have a big brother, but after he passed, they just got meaner. They would- they would hurt me sometimes.” Smalls got quiet.

“But one day, Mama and Pa, they came to our cottage, wanting to look at something or other my father had been working on. They saw my mother hit me, and they took me away right then and there. Adopted me as their own.”

“I understand, I really do.” Small’s took Crutchie’s hand a squeezed it tight.

His smile jumped back to his face, his heart beating at least twice as fast. Shyly, Crutchie looked into Smalls’ eyes, and, quite suddenly, leaned forward to give her a gentle kiss on the lips. 

The world was perfect for a brief second before they were interrupted by the ringing of a clock.

Crutchie could feel himself panic a little. “What time is it?”

“Midnight,” Smalls replied, leaning in for another soft kiss.

“Midnight?!” A bolt of terror shot through his heart. “I'm -- I am so sorry, I have to --” 

But Crutchie barely finished his sentence before feeling a sudden, horrid pain in his leg. He grimaced, and stood up as fast as he could. “I am so sorry!” He exclaimed again before turning away and beginning to run through the garden as fast as he could.

“Wait! Wait!” Smalls reached out and tried to grab him by the hand.”Don’t go!”

“You don't understand!” Crutchie yelled back, panic beginning to overwhelm him. “I --” 

The clock tolled once more, and any notion of saying “I love you!” flew out of Crutchie’s mind. Barely having time to process something slipping off his hand, he turned and ran away. Branches and flowers seemed to catch at him as he ran, not wanting to let him go as much as Smalls did. 

His leg feeling like it was on fire, he stumbled to the carriage and crawled in. To his horror, he watched as the carriage around him began to turn yellow and pulpy as it began to transform into a squash once more. As desperate as he was, all Crutchie could do was lie on the rapidly disappearing seat and wait until he was home.

Once back to the manor, Crutchie found his crutch where he had left it in the yard, and hobbled up to his room just as he heard the sounds of the front door open and his step family clamber in.

Exhausted as he was, Crutchie finally smiled in the darkness of his room. He stretched out his hands up in the air, grinning in spite of his sleepiness. Crutchie suddenly blinked, frowning as he noticed the weight on his hand was missing -- somehow, his mother’s ring had been lost in the chaos of getting home. Crutchie rolled over and smiled into to his pillow anyways -- he had the night of a lifetime, and his only hope was that Smalls -- his dear Smalls! -- had found his ring. 

* * *

 

Smalls stood there dumbstruck for a moment. Had he really gone? Why? Why had he left? Where had he gone? She couldn’t get herself to move, staring at the alley he had ran into. Her concentration was only broken by a hand on her shoulder.

“Kid? You okay?”

Smalls shook her head. “He had to leave, Pa.”

“I didn’t even get his name...”


	5. Find the Prince!

Smalls could hardly sleep that night. Her evening kept playing over and over again in her mind. Their lovely first dance. The way they spoke for hours on end. The way he kissed her on the lips. The way he had to run away. 

She sighed. Pa had told her they would have to wait until morning to search for her missing prince. As much as they hated all the decorum they followed, Smalls agreed with Pa- it wouldn’t be good to leave Mama alone with hundreds of party guests. But a search party was to be conducted come morning.

The clock struck seven times when Smalls finally got out of bed. With a strong determination he got up and went to dress in his traveling clothes. He worried about the fact that he felt masculine that morning for only one second, before realizing that no matter what he looked like or felt like, his love would be able to find him. 

But would he be able to find his love?

All he had to go on was the ring he had left behind, and the knowledge of a well he had occasionally visited. As he pulled on his last boot, he glanced up as a servant opened the door to admit both his mother and father, already dressed in their own royal traveling gear.

Jack put a hand on Smalls’ back. “We’ll find him, kid. Your ma and I found each other against all odds. We will do the same for you.”

Katherine came up and kissed Smalls on the forehead. “And that’s a promise, little one.”

At that moment, his parents’ love and support was all he needed to cast aside any more doubts and fears. He would find his mysterious prince. And they would be together and happy once more.

* * *

 

An hour quickly passed as the royal family rode through the forest. As Smalls knew everyone within an hour radius, it made no sense to look for his love there. They approached a house and the process of searching for his prince began. 

One of the officers knocked on the door, asking to see all members of the household. When they came upon the field, Smalls asked if anyone recognized this ring. None of them looked like his prince, but they may have known him. They hadn’t, but then something interesting happened.

One of the sons jokingly put the ring on. Or tried to at least. The ring glowed a hot red and would not allow the son to wear it, leaving a small burn where he had tried. All were understandably startled, except for Katherine. 

“May I see that, son?” she asked, looking at the ring curiously.  Smalls handed it over and Katherine tried to put it on herself. It produced the same reaction. “I’ve seen this kind of magic before.”

“Magic? I thought that was just something you told me in stories?” he asked, confused.

“Yes, magic,” Katherine repeated. “This ring has been enchanted so that only the owner can wear it.”

“So that means...”

“Only your prince will be able to wear it, dear.”

A hopeful smile appeared on Smalls’ face. “So it will only go to him.” At least that would keep imposters from fooling him. “Then what are we waiting for? Let’s keep going!” he shouted before running off.

Katherine smiled at her husband. “He’s your son. Ever the adventurer,” she laughed.

“He’s your’s too. Never quite gives up.” Jack gave her a quick peck on the lips. “Come on, let’s go before we lose him.” 

* * *

Crutchie had risen early to prepare breakfast for his stepfamily, and only had the happy memory of the ball to keep him content while his stepbrothers insulted him. He could hardly get Smalls out of his mind! Her lips, her smile, her eyes… only those thoughts sustained him through his hard labor and his family’s usual torments.

Caught up in another wonderful day dream while he was mucking the pigs, Crutchie couldn't help but glance towards his attic window. He stopped what he was doing and set the shovel down, squinting to see whoever was there.

A chill traveled down his spine as the figure in the window turned towards him. It was his stepfather. But what would his stepfather be doing in his room?

With one last glance at the pigs who were now rooting around happily in the mud, Crutchie left them to it and limped back to the manor house.

When Crutchie came up the stairs into his room, he was greeted with a hard glare from his stepfather.

“H-hello, sir,” he greeted. 

“Don’t give me that ‘Hello, sir’ crap,” Snyder scowled. “I don’t know what you think your pulling, but there ain’t no way you are going to wind up with that princess. Not when there are two perfectly good men in this house for her.”

“What're you talking about?” Crutchie could hardly stop the words from leaving his mouth, and Snyder’s eyes narrowed. 

“I know you danced with her at the ball,” he growled, taking a step closer to Crutchie, who quickly felt his knees turn to jelly. “I don't know how, but you did. And I will not have some petty crippled serving boy ruin any prospects of marriage for my sons!”

In a flash, Crutchie felt himself tumble and slam to the floor as his stepfather yanked away his crutch. 

“Whether through some devilry or dark magic, you danced with the princess,” Snyder proclaimed, raising the crutch in the air to strike his step son. “The same dark magic that makes her think she's a boy sometimes -- whatever it was, I will personally see to it that you two never meet again!”

Later on, Crutchie would always say he blacked out and could only remember waking to a locked door and dark room after his stepfather beat him. The truth was that he remembered every second of what surely was an hour of being beaten for merely existing. For merely falling in love. 

When he came to, darkness had fallen outside with only lamps and stars shining any light, and the door was locked.

Crutchie could hardly move.

His crutch was nowhere to be found.

And then came a knock on the door to the house below.

* * *

 

“By the order of Queen Katherine, will you please have all men below the age of 30 come out before the prince?” 

Snyder grinned mischievously. This would be his chance. “Of course, sir. Let me bring my sons out.”

When the Oscar and Morris came outside, they also had the same mischievous grin.

“Now, gentlemen,” the officer said. “The prince has been looking to find the sir he lost at the ball. All we have of his is this ring. If you can successfully wear this ring, then the prince would like to take you into consideration for marriage.”

“Prince,” Oscar scoffed quietly, but with a gracious bow he took the offered ring from the officer. He easily slipped it on his finger, but his face contorted in pain. Making an effort to smile through the sweat that was now rapidly dripping down his face, he turned to his father. 

“Looks like I'm one lucky man, Father,” he strained to force out his words through the pain the ring was causing him, it now glowing a bright orange.

“I would say not,” the officer replied. “That ring is glowing- it would not do that if it actually belonged to you.” He shook his head. “Take that thing off, son, before you burn a hole in your finger.”

“Not so lucky, are you Oscar?” Morris teased.

“Oh, shove off!” Oscar grumbled. “Let’s see you try.”

“Don’t mind if I do.” Like his brother before him, the ring slipped on very easily. After a few seconds had passed and there was no pain or heat, Morris had thought he was home free. “See? I truly am the one the princess met.” As he turned to stick a tongue out at his brother, the ring glowed a bright red this time, and began to actually burn off his skin.

“Get it off! Get it off!” he shouted, struggling to pull off the ring.

The officer sighed. Another false alarm. “Are you sure there are not any other young gentlemen in your house?”

“No, no, I only my two sons. That is it.”

From the back of the crowd, a voice shouted out. “What about that boy up there? I can see him! In- in the attic!”

“What!” Snyder struggled to control himself as more and more people began to shout.

“Yes, I see him -- he's knocking on the window!”

“He looks like he's saying help!”

“Sir, by order of the Queen, we must see him,” the officer said sternly.

Snyder balked. “He is only a servant boy. He was working last night- no chance of being your missing ‘gentleman’. Now of you would so kindly leave my property...”

“Not until we see the boy. Kelly! Up the stairs! Find that boy!”

Jack immediately pushed past Snyder and Oscar and Morris, nearly knocking them to the floor in his haste to climb the stairs. Katherine followed right on his heels, and the recent king and queen raced up to a small door at the very top of a very tall tower. Jack pulled it open to reveal a young man with sandy blonde hair and crumpled clothing. 

His heart broke for the young man. He was tired and beaten, just like the young child he and Katherine had taken in so many years ago. “Hey, kid, are you okay there?” he asked. “Think you can sit up for me?”

Crutchie nodded, and slowly pushed himself up off the ground. “I went to the window, but -- but I can’t stand without --” he shook his head, gesturing uselessly out into the hall. Shouts from downstairs interrupted him, and he looked down at the floor to listen to his stepfather rant and rave at the poor guards below. Crutchie could only give the king and queen a helpless shrug.

“My stepfather,” he explained in a very small voice.

Jack nodded. “Come here, kid. Let’s get you downstairs alright?” Even if this boy wasn’t their son’s prince, he wanted to do anything he could to help. He couldn’t stand to leave him in pain, Jack held him up on one side and Katherine on the other. 

A memory of carrying Smalls away crossed his memory. What irony would it be if he carried his possible son-in-law to safety the way he had all those years ago. 

“You’re almost there, darling,” Katherine said kindly as they reached the bottom of the stairs. “We’ll take you to the foyer, and you can sit.”

Crutchie nodded, glancing up as he heard his stepfather’s yelling even louder than before. With a quiet word of thanks to Jack as he sat him down in a chair -- he still ached all over, and his whole body felt like one gigantic bruise -- he turned towards the small group of guards that had apparently awaited him. 

The guards recoiled at the various cuts and bruises that covered him, but they quickly got back to business. “Sir, I ask on behalf of the Queen that you put on this ring. We are looking for the Prince’s love from the ball. All we have is this ring, enchanted only to be worn by the gentleman from last night.”

Something like hope flashed within Crutchie's eyes, and he slowly stretched out his hand to take the ring. “My mother’s ring,” he murmured, wondering if Race had known something like this would happen. “Could I… uh, could I try it on?” He managed to ask, avoiding looking at Snyder’s loathing eyes as much as he could. 

The guard nodded and slipped the ring onto Crutchie’s finger. Instead of a red glow, the ring glowed yellow and shimmered in the light.

It was a perfect match.

Instead of clapping, some of the guards, as well as Jack, shifted nervously. Jack glanced at Katherine, only meeting her eyes for the briefest of moments before Crutchie spoke up. 

“Uh -- where's Smalls?” He asked, frowning. “Shouldn't he be here too?”

“I’m right here, my prince.” From the back of the hallway, Smalls emerged. He kneeled in front of Crutchie delicately holding his hand. “I found you.”

Crutchie smiled. “That you did.”

“After such an effort, there is one thing I’d like in return,” Smalls said, with a slight tease in his voice.

“Your name.”

Crutchie blushed even in spite of himself. “It's Robert,” he said at first, but quickly corrected himself. “But everyone calls me Crutchie.”

“Crutchie?” Katherine asked, pursing her lips. “Who on Earth thought to -- “

“Here, your highness,” a guard scrambled up with the wooden crutch in his hands. He handed it to Crutchie, whose smile slowly slipped away. Suddenly, he could barely look at Smalls anymore.

But Smalls kept looking at him, a soft smile on his face. “Well, Robert, would you give me the honor of courting you?” 

Crutchie glanced to Smalls as quickly as he could, but couldn’t find it in himself to smile. “You -- you wouldn’t mind -- I can’t really… dance.”

“I don’t mind. I wouldn’t mind if you couldn’t talk to people or had purple hair. That doesn’t matter. You-” he put his hand on his shoulder, “you are all that matters to me. The kind gentleman who treated me like an actual person instead of a prize to be won. The kind gentleman who deserves everything in this world and more.”

Crutchie gazed up at Smalls, his smile slowly blossoming across his face. In one fluid motion he stood up and gently reached to kiss his love. 

Despite everything that had happened since his parents’ death. Despite being beaten by Snyder day in and day out. Despite losing his Prince.

Their lips met, and the world just felt right.


	6. Epilogue

Crutchie twisted his tongue as he concentrated on looking in the mirror. His appearance almost seemed unreal, even when it was staring back at him. Gone were his raggy old pants and shirt. Not even his frayed boots and suspenders were anywhere to be found. 

This day, Crutchie wore a suit of polished black, and boots just the same. His crutch was even new: no longer shabby and sweat-stained, this one was of polished wood and had deep purple fabric wrapped around the top. Nothing was spared in order for Crutchie to marry his betrothed looking his best. 

Except, perhaps his bow tie. For the life of him he couldn't figure out how to tie it so it looked remotely normal! With another deep breath (his nerves were beginning to catch up with him) he reached up to untangle it and start all over again. 

“Come here, kid.” Jack entered from the back of the room, seeing his son-in-law to-be struggling with his tie. “It took me twenty years, but I finally mastered the art of tying one of these things.”

“Twenty years?” Crutchie would have laughed if he didn't feel so nervous. “I sorta need to know now, your highness.”

Jack laughed. “What have I told you?” he asked, taking Crutchie’s bowtie and carefully tying it. “You don’t have to call me, your highness. Not when you’re about to get married to my child. You’re a part of our family. Jack is just fine.”

Crutchie blushed all the same. “Thanks, your -- uh, Jack.” His smile slipped away, and his eyes suddenly shone at his next words. “For everything. I mean it, sir.”

“No problem, son.” Jack patted him on the back and walked with him to the door. “Let’s get you married.”

Crutchie smiled, but his stomach turned over in a very jumpy way once more, and it was all he could do to not take up his crutch and run the other way. His nerves were beginning to overcome his excitement…

But as he stepped through the door and limped outside to the ceremony, he only had to think of Smalls’ beautiful, wonderful eyes and their glowing smile to put himself at ease.

Down the hall, Smalls was preparing with her mother, her own nerves building. 

“You’re going to put a hole in the floor if you keep pacing, little one,” Katherine teased. “Sit.” She motioned to the vanity, to do a few last minute things.

Smalls looked up at her mother and breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m sorry, Ma. I don’t know why I’m so nervous.”

“It’s only natural, darling,” Katherine wove her way around the chair, coming to sit by Smalls. “Your wedding day... “ For a moment, she didn’t continue and simply stared into the mirror, memory flying back first to her and Jack’s wedding, and then to the day they rescued Smalls. Katherine placed an arm around Smalls’ shoulder, smiling almost sadly. “I remember the first time you walked into the castle, your father was carrying you until you begged to be put down, and then you raced off and burst into all the rooms you could. You were so excited to be here.. To be with us. And now you get to have that with your own life.” Katherine took a deep breath, smiling even though tears pricked at her eyes. “I am so, so proud of you Smalls. Of everything you’ve done. And I know you and Robert will be the best rulers our kingdom has ever had.”

“Ma... Stop it, you’re making me cry and we haven’t even gotten inside the church.” Smalls wrapped her arms around her mother. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Katherine broke from the hug and stood up. “Shall we get this wedding underway?”

Smalls simply nodded. 

\---

Today was the day. Now was the time. And when Smalls walked down that aisle, she couldn’t have looked more beautiful.

Of course, Crutchie couldn’t see what Smalls looked like at all, for his back was to Smalls the entire time she walked down the aisle. His nerves were jumping like wild grasshoppers once more, and they only seemed to intensify once the priest walked up to the dais. A flutter of fabric and Smalls was standing next to him, and Crutchie could barely contain his shaking hands.

The priest began his speech and before they knew it, it was time for the two of them to say their vows.

“Lord Robert Morris, do you promise to love and cherish Princess Samantha Elena Kelly as your lawfully wedded wife for richer and poorer, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?”

Crutchie smiled, his eyes focused on Smalls. “I do.”

“And do you, Princess Samantha Elena Kelly, promise to love and cherish Lord Robert Morris as your lawfully wedded husband for richer and poorer, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?”

Smalls beamed with happiness. “I do.”

“By the power invested in me, I know pronounce you married. Lord Morris? You may now kiss your bride.”

It was only then that Crutchie broke into a beaming grin, and his hands finally stilled. He and Smalls moved forward at the same time, their lips meeting together in a perfect union.

Crutchie finally had the happy ending he deserved, finding both his prince and princess at once. 

* * *

“Papa! Papa!” A young boy toddled into Prince Crutchie’s library. “Nibi and Molly are back from town!”

The young man glanced up from the book he was pursuing, a smile spreading across his face at the sight of his youngest son. “They are! I suppose we’ll have to see what they've brought back, don't we?”

“Come on, Papa! let’s go!”

Crutchie rose out of his chair and stowed his crutch underneath his arm just as his son grabbed his hand in an attempt to pull him along. It didn't take long for the pair to trot to the gates, which were opened almost immediately.

Smalls came out the carriage looking as handsome as ever with their middle daughter. Their youngest was extra eager to get a hug from their parent. “Nibi! Nibi!” he shouted putting up his arms. 

“Hello, baby. I missed you,” Smalls said, picking him up and kissing. Crutchie looked over happily. “And I’ve missed you,” he said, kissing his husband.

“I’ve missed you more,” Crutchie teased, giving another peck on the lips. 

“Did you behave for Papa while I was gone?” he asked, tickling his son. 

“You were a little angel, weren’t you, Robert?” Crutchie asked, tickling the young boy himself.

He nodded his head happily. “Uh huh! Uh huh!”

“That’s my good boy.” Smalls sat Robert down on the ground and tapped his shoulder. “Go play with your Molly for second, hmm? She missed you bunches,” he cooed.

“Molly! Molly!” Smalls and Crutchie laughed as their younger two ran to go play.

“How was your trip to town?” Crutchie asked. 

Smalls shrugged. “We had a good time, just me and Molly, but I couldn’t get the negotiations through. The blacksmiths and the clothes makers just aren’t giving either way. But that’s for another day. How are my boys? Is Lucy still with ‘Uncle’ Race?”

Crutchie nodded. “They'll be back soon. Race might be many things, but he ain't a kidnapper. He mentioned something about teaching her the finer points of spellcasting though. We can only hope he doesn't give her one of his cigars….”

“I don’t know, those cigars turned out pretty good for us last time,” he teased. “Come on, let’s go home. I’ve been missing a certain bed of ours...”

Crutchie smiled, knowing what his husband was getting at. “Why don’t we go reunite you two then?”

“I’d love that.”

“Hey, lovebirds!”

Only that shout could interrupt Crutchie and Smalls’ plans and dash them to pieces. Race stood at the gates, inexplicably the exact same age as all those years ago. On his shoulders sat Lucy, their oldest daughter.

“Uncle Race showed me where the fairies live!” She proclaimed, and Crutchie limped over to his godfather and daughter.

“We went to the woods,” Lucy continued, “And we saw all the fairy houses we could! Next time, Uncle Race’s promised to teach me real magic too.”

“Real magic?” Crutchie teased. “Fairies aren't real magic?”

Lucy harrumphed and crossed her arms, staring up with a petite glare at her father that she undoubtedly got from watching Smalls all the time. “You know what I mean, papa.”

Smalls came up and kissed his daughter on the head. “Did you say thank you to Uncle Race?”

“Thank you, Uncle Race!” she said with a sweet smile.

“No problem, princess,” Race teased. 

Above them a chime rang six times. “Why don’t you round up your brother and sister?” Smalls said, patting her oldest in the direction of Molly and Robert. “It’s time for supper.”

“Race, you want to stay for supper tonight?” Crutchie asked.

“Well sure,” Race stated, popping a cigar in his mouth as if he grabbed it out of thin air, which he probably had. “If there's food involved, I’ll be there.”

“You’re always welcome, you know that,” Smalls said.

“Hey, kid have you thought about that offer any more?”

A few weeks ago Race had given Crutchie a proposition. He had learned more powerful magic and now had the ability to fix Crutchie’s leg permanently. He had to admit, it was sorely tempting. To be able to run freely with his children? That was one gift he didn't really have. And for Race to offer to fulfill that dream? Crutchie’s mouth tightened into a grim line, and he sought out Smalls’ eyes for reassurance. For a moment he was a young adult at the ball once more, nervous and afraid of any outcome. 

“I --” he opened and closed his mouth again, going silent once more. “I don't know.”

“You don’t have to make any decisions now,” Smalls said, coming behind him and hugging him. “And when you do decide, I’ll support you either way.” After all the support Crutchie had provided him throughout the years, well of course Smalls would support him on this.

Crutchie turned to his husband, taking his hands in his. “Either way?”

“Either way.”

Crutchie nodded, and glanced back to Race. “Then…. then no, Race. I won't,” he smiled a little, and continued. “I'm happy as I am. We all are.”

Race nodded and put his cigar back in his mouth. “Well, if that’s the case, why don’t we go in and have some dinner? I’ll give you lovebirds a second.”

Crutchie blinked. “That's it? You're not gonna argue?”

“Hey, who am I to argue with my future rulers?” Race shrugged, smiling around his cigar as he strode past into the palace.

Smalls smiled and kissed Crutchie on the temple. “Well, that’s that then.” He reached down and intertwined their fingers. “Did you ever think all those years ago we would end up like this?”

“Never,” Crutchie threw back, beginning to fully smile again. “I had no idea if I'd ever see you again, much less marry you. And adopt three wonderful children.”

“I think we did a pretty good job.” Smalls kissed him again. “How about we go on in?”

Raising their interlocked hands to kiss them, Crutchie responded with a smile. The pair strode into the palace hand in hand, together as they always would be. 


End file.
